I thought I'd come so far, maybe I was wrong
by madaboutcarla
Summary: In his anger peter reminds Carla of a moment she tried so hard to put behind her.
1. Chapter 1

_Two/ Three Parter - In his anger, Peter reminds Carla of a night she'd tried to forget_

Their voices were raised, overlapping each other, neither listening to the end of each other's sentences. It was a cacophony of undignified chaos; accusations, insults, put downs and infuriating tension.

He was livid, yet again she'd tried to 'help' and it had left him even less of a chance of gaining custody of the son he loved so dearly. It was as though each time so made an effort to 'aid' him, she clumsily kicked another of the foundations away, until he had none left and he was falling further and further away from stability.

She was hurt, she was angry with herself, and she was tired. She loved him and every time she thought she was doing the right thing, it turned on her and she was confronted with mistakes she'd made all her life leaving her feeling like a usless shell of a body.

'Trying to help, you're always trying to help' he mocked, an angry and yet smarmy smile plastered on his face.

'I'm sorry, I thought I was doing the right thing, it just slipped out' Carla said, her guilt withering away at her usually feisty, unapologetic exterior.

'Slipped out? Slipped out?' he repeated, his fists clenching up.

'I said I'm sorry, I didn't plan it, I just wanted to do the right thing, for you' Carla said honestly, regretting ever saying a word to Leanne.

'This isn't some funny game Carla, this is my son, the son I'm so close to losing, the one's who life we've ruined!' he shouted, turning his body away from her as his thoughts fell on the child he'd hurt so badly, the one she'd described as 'damaged', the more he thought about it her words rang more true.

'You don't think I know that? I know how much you love that boy, you don't think I feel guilty every day knowing what I've done?' Carla said,

'Yeah well it's not good feeling guilty, what's done is done now, Simon's a mess and it doesn't look like I'll ever get custody now, no thanks to you' Peter said, his tone lower than before, laced with despondency.

'You can't think like that Peter, you're a good dad, a wonderful dad, and they'll see that, just like I do' Carla said softly hoping her words would soothe him a little and bring him closer to her, only she didn't get the desired effect.

'If you'd have seen that you'd have never gone over and bribed Leanne, if you'd have believed what you're saying we wouldn't be in this mess' he said, suddenly his anger more prominent than before, his fists tightening as he turned round to face her, taking a step forward, his eyes narrowed, his lips pursed. He hadn't intended to frighten her, and he'd had no plans on hitting her, but as she bolted backwards, her body smacking against the kitchen wall, before sliding weakly down to the floor, clutching her legs like a lonely child he realized he'd made a huge mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow, thank you for all the lovely reviews! They pleasantly surprised me!_

_I found the second part a lot harder to write, I'm not really that pleased with it, and know I could do better but I seriously needed to update it and right now my mind's not functioning, so there will be a third part._

Within an instant, his anger subsides and his fists unclench, fanning out and reaching towards her. He immediately regrets getting so wound up. As he steps towards her, cautiously this time he's pained to see her flinch and press her back even closer to the wall, her hands a visibly shaking as she clutches at her knees, her body hunched in a foetal manner.

It was a combination of body language and the speed at which he turned that teased the ghastly memory from the corners of her unconscious. As his body spun round, moving towards her with such a force it hit her like a smack in the face – hard and unforgiving. It was though for those few seconds her body detached itself from her mind.

She could see Frank, clear as day in front of her, his face cool, his expression nonchalant, but his eyes were so alive, so full of rage and passion. He was still, unnervingly so. And then like a predator ambushing their chosen prey, he exploded, the jealousy he felt cascading out his body through brute force and filthy insults.

_'You fucking slut, you fucking little slut' he spat, his voice slightly raised, and yet possessing an alarming essence of peace to it, as his hands pummelled her stomach over and over before descending to her thighs and hungrily tearing them apart; preparing to mark his territory once more._

She'd blocked it out her mind, not allowing herself to go back there, and she'd succeeded thus far, but now she was back there, living, breathing that nasty hour all over again.

Suspended in oblivion, she sat shaking, her skin covered in a thin layer of sweat as her memories punished her.

'Carla, oh god, Carla I'm so sorry' Peter said, easing towards her, his hands in front of him to reassure her it was him and not the monster he'd reminded her of. He felt a devastating surge of guilt course through every vein in body, his blood saturated with regret.

She didn't reply, instead, she closed her eyes, her chin resting on her knees as she tried to refocus, thinking back to what her councillor had said when thinks had gotten on top of her and she'd been living in constant fear of a flashback. She drew out the air in her lungs, exhaling; the thud of her head reverberating through her body.

'Carla, please, it's me, I didn't mean to scare you, god I wasn't going to hurt you, I wouldn't, you've got to believe me' he said, his eyes coated in a film of tears, as it dawned on him just how severe the consequences of his actions could be.

Trust. It had taken sheer patience, time and caution to reach the level of understanding they now shared with one an other, or had done. The rape had left a women, her body beaten and abused, exposed to the elements; a helpless infant left to fend for itself. The foundations of their relationship were always going to be strained, given their mutual dependency on alcohol, the world that surrounded them, but it was Frank's violation that really weakened the cracks, and now in one fowl, unintentional swoop Peter had ripped the mortar from within them, their world crashing to the ground, the trust no longer there.

'Don't come near me' she whispered, the same words she'd uttered just days after her rape when he'd visited her at Maria's. It had hurt then, being rejected, but he'd understood, she was scared, wounded, like a child she needed to learn, learn to trust again. Only this time it was worse. He'd been the one to teach her, to gain her trust and coax her out of her shell, to show her that it was possibly to loved once more.

He crouched down in front of her, half a meter away or so, looking up as he tried to regain some composure. Tentatively he reached forward, his fingertip just brushing the base of her chin, before sliding beneath it and very slowly bringing her eye's to meet his. Her eye's were wet, her eyelashes damp and clumped together in an uneven fashion, her top lip quivered, a solitary tear clinging to the depression of her philtrum.

She allowed herself to pause and look into his eyes, apologetic pools that offered nothing but love. His finger was reassuringly stroking the skin beneath her chin, the repetitive motion bringing her breathing back to a normal rhythm.

He gave her a slightly uneasy smile, 'There, you see, it's okay, it's okay' he said, his voice low, an air of persuasion lingering in it's tone. Though this time she didn't flinch or pull away as he brought his body closer to hers and positioned himself beside her, the stagnancy of her pose said enough.

'I'd never do what he did to you' Peter whispers, feeling a regretful need to ensure her that his intentions weren't violent. He reached somewhat forcefully for her hand, linking his fingers with hers, their palms pressed tightly together.

a huge mistake.


	3. Chapter 3

_Right, so I think this will be the last chapter, though there is a slight chance I might add one more. You're reviews have been amazing! And I know I said it before, but yeah this chapter was even harder to write. My mind really isn't being nice to be today._

The pair of them lay awake for what seemed like hours, side by side in their favourite position; Carla's body, resting on her side, her legs bent slightly, her hands holding Peter's against her chest, his arms holding her as he spooned her, his torso moulded perfectly against her back. Yet despite their physical closeness, there was an intangible void between them, a distance that was holding them apart, now bereft of trust, the only thing stopping them from ricocheting apart was the potency of the love they had for one an other.

Peter's gaze never left Carla, his eyes falling on the graceful curve of her cheekbones, just visible above her shoulder, most of her face concealed by her raven mane. The peaceful lull of her chest, rising and falling in a harmonious rhythm put him at ease, he longed to pull her body closer to his, to tighten his embrace, but he feared that he'd only unnerve her, and the violent thud of her erratic heartbeat was the last thing he wanted to feel, let alone cause.

He thought back to the satisfaction, and gratitude he'd felt back in September, when she'd allowed him to put his arm round her shoulders, such a simple, unimportant gesture to most, but he knew the significance, he knew it took every ounce of her strength not to buckled beneath his touch. It was that strength that allowed him to hold her, to stroke her hair and ultimately to make love to her.

He loathed himself for scaring her today. He'd taken her 'recovery' as such for granted. He's been so wrapped up in his own problems recently he hadn't stopped to think for a moment how she was doing. Just because Frank was dead and gone that didn't mean he didn't still linger, haunting her, torturing her. Since the whole custody battle for Simon he'd neglected her, and now he was paying the price.

She felt the velvet of his lips brush her, procrastinating against the nape of her neck, holding his kiss for as long as he can. She knows he is trying to make up for this afternoon, trying to regain the trust that splintered in an instant, she's aware of the way his arms hold her loosely, afraid of constraining her and she wants to tell him that it's okay, that he's forgiven and she understands.

Only she can't. She doesn't feel the same. It's as though someone had dug up the gave she'd so carefully buried those brutal memories in, trowelled them up and left them spewed all over her mind. Whilst she felt safe in Peter's arms, she didn't feel secure; on edge and vulnerable she expected herself to fall back into that grim mind frame she'd occupied in those first weeks after the rape.

'I feel raw' she whispered, staring into space as Peter processed her words.

He didn't feel able to respond , he didn't know what to say, so settled with rubbing his thumb in a circular motion over the silky skin between her thumb and forefinger, nudging his legs up so her lower back was plush against him.

'I feel like I've taken 10 steps backward, and I came so far Peter, I really did' Carla said almost her self rather than him.

It was then she realized how angry she was at herself, how could she be so weak? How could she allow herself to freak out like she did, let him gain control of her even in death? Had she learned nothing? Had these last few months not taught her anything? She felt herself getting wound up inside, berating herself. She hated the women she'd become; a needy burden. Once again, she'd let Frank violate her, maybe not physically this time, but sure enough he'd abducted the control she'd managed to regain and taken her sanity with it.

As long as she was with Peter, she was an addict. Addicted to him, dependent on him, reliant on him. Her independence was being sapped away in a steady trickle, and if she left it much longer, she wouldn't have enough left to do what she needed to. She couldn't imagine her life without him, but this was the problem, if without him she couldn't function, couldn't survive, then surely being with him wasn't healthy either. She couldn't live her life, standing on a precipice, terrified that she'd loose him terrified that she be left, discarded like a piece of rubbish.

No, she couldn't. She had to break free now, while she still could.


	4. Chapter 4

_Penultimate chapter, I've written the next one already so it will be up tonight_

Peter roused from his sleep, a smile forming when he heard her steady, halcyon, breaths, so shallow and undisturbed, and a bitter reminder of the panicked state she'd found herself in the night before.

He took advantage of her slumber, pulling her limp body closer to his, a face full of hair in his face but he didn't care. In his mind, that space between them was now non-existent, his body naively intertwined with hers, he felt as though nothing else mattered, they'd get through it, they had to.

The kiss he placed against her shoulder lasted for longer than it needed to, partly a continuation of his apology, his guilt, and partly because seeing her sleeping there, in his bed reminded him of how far they'd come and how much shit they'd already waded through to get here.

She waited until she was sure she'd heard the door slam shut, and his footsteps fade before she opened her eyes and let out the sigh she'd been restraining herself from expelling for hours. It said so much more than frustration, it was pain, anger, hurt, confusion all rolled into one splitting ache that coursed throughout her whole bloody body. Her mind shifted back to last night and she remembered the decision she'd made, a choice she'd never wanted to be confronted with again.

_Those piercing blue eyes look suddenly so vulnerable, bereft of their usual cockiness, their spark. In the sombre, amber light of the small, inconspicuous restaurant they've found themselves in, lives are changing, lies unravelling and hearts breaking. It kills to have to do it, to have to be so selfish and yet so selfless, to see his eyes narrow, they'd be wincing, if eyes could. His lip's quiver and she knows she must do it before he consumes her, before she gives into the love she knows is so beautifully right and yet somehow so cruelly wrong. Each word that leaves her lips is another stab to an already festering wound; he can read her like a book, he understand her inside out, their minds are so passionately interlinked it feels almost alien to them at times, and yet he find's himself rooted to the spot, unable to bring himself to chase after to her, to tell he's not a fool and no matter what she says he knows she is lying and he won't accepted because they can no longer fight it. He let's her go. _

Time hasn't really moved on, she can recreate those moments just as vividly in her head as she could the day he died, the day she lost her Liam. Her heart has been stuck in a rut ofmorality with her mind ever since, neither edging ahead. She hates the choice she made, the consequences it had, the way even though she knows it wasn't really her fault, she can't accept it. And she hates the way she knows it was the right thing to do, to break it off with him.

It's only when she hears Peter's keys turning in the door that she faces reality once more, and braces herself in preparation for what she must do, for breaking his heart, and consequently her own.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you SO much for the lovely comments! They make me so happy. If any of you want and can think of a direction I could take this in for a kind of sequel then you're welcome to suggest.

He couldn't ignore the faint tremor in her hand, her dainty fingers unable to close around his, instead, unintentionally drumming against his skin as she figured out what to say, and how to say it.

'If this is about last night, you know how sorry I am baby, I.. I wasn't going to hurt you, I just lot my temper and I didn't think..' he said, wondering how many times he'd have to say this to assure he what he said was true.

She dragged her teeth over the swell of her bottom lip, lifting her eyes to meet his. It felt so ridiculously cliché but it was his eyes, those fucking gentle, understanding eyes that made this so hard. His eyes mapped out the past year, an elaborate illustration springing before her, bringing her right back to that first damn moment she set eyes of him, sitting, then shocked in that AA room.

_And then she pictures him, albeit rather blurred and unfocused, wrapping her hand in a gauze of some sort._

_His voice is nonchalant and he's rubbing her back as she recalls the first time she admitted her feelings for him, and his painfully composed reaction._

_Eye's determined to resist her, but almost faltering, his body is guarded as she presses herself against him and whispers seductively into his ear, only just modest._

_Choking back tears, holding back vows of love, as he lies almost dying before her._

_'Opening up her chest and showing him her heart' her lips dabbing the corner of his mouth until he turns his head and gives in._

_Angrily spitting that he doesn't care, eyes narrowed and voice so clear._

_Her stomach is throbbing and she feels exposed and so dirty, he's there in a flicker, standing before her but she barely registers him as she spins round and clutched at the torn remains of her blouse and asks for him to go._

_It changed from then, he's there so often, brushing her skin with such a grateful touch._

_Holding her close and running hands through her hair, kissing the corner of her lips, just not close enough._

_Holding what he thought may be a carcass, unable to let go._

_He's touching her, kissing her, he's promising her everything and she's so vulnerable and reluctant to respond but she can't hold back and then she's there and he's inside her and he's loving her and …_

'Carla what's wrong?' Peter asks, his voice drenched in concern as he takes hold of her chin and does the same as he did 'that night', brushing the tears that run down her cheeks with the pad of his thumb in a circular motion.

'I wanted you, I wanted you so badly, and I love you so much, and it breaks my heart to have to do this, cause' you know I've done it before, I done it before, and it doesn't hurt any less, but I know, I know I've got to do it Peter' she mumbled, her voice is so strained and hoarse, and he isn't even sure she's talking to him, or if she's talking to herself, her eyes aren't connected with anything, it's as though she's looking in the mirror, attempting to convince herself what she is saying is true.

'Carla, calm down, I don't understand, done what? Do what?' he said, afraid of the disconnection in her body language.

'You, me, us.. I can't do it, I can't, I've tried and I know it's what I want but I.. it's not what I need and I don't expect you to understand but I'm doing the right thing'.

His response is late, he's trying to piece together everything she's saying, her behaviour, he wonders if this is just a blip, an 'episode', if she's thinking straight, but behind the uncertainty in her eyes, is a women who has taken a path that she isn't going to divert from, she's holding back just, and she isn't going to let him convince her, she isn't going to let him in, not anymore.

'Why?' is all he can pathetically ask her, he's lost the will to push her, to try.

'I've made my mind up, I've thought about it over and over, and over.. and it's the only way I can.. recover' she whispers, drawing the words together in her head but unable to evoke how she really feels.

He loosens his hold on her hands, so they simply sit in his, cradled if you like. He's lost her and he knows it. If there's one thing he has learned, it's who she is, he feels it dawn on him, like her hot breath before they lean in for a kiss, that she's slipped through his hands without him ever really noticing, he hadn't caught her as she fell, as he thought, he hadn't truly brought her back from the brink. He hadn't done any of the things he'd thought, hope he had.


End file.
